


Diamond in the Rough

by alexokerry



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexokerry/pseuds/alexokerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duo is a foster child from and nephew of a major player in the Winner Corperation.  He attends the highschool in Winnerton, where it is well known that for the right price the braided boy will service all your needs.  But things are not what they seem and Duo may need a hero before things come to a climax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A CHANCE MEETING

** DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH **

 

****

****

** A CHANCE MEETING **

  
  
  
  
  
Duo struggled through the biting October wind. He pulled the frayed collar of his threadbare jacket a little closer to his neck in the fragile hope that it would protect him from the frozen fingers of breeze that crept past the feeble barrier. His father hadn’t seen the need to get him a new coat for winter. He could still fit into the one that his older, half-brother had handed down to him three years ago. There was no use in trying to explain to the old man that things wore out and, for some reason, they seemed to wear out faster when they were owned by his brother, Owen Simpson Reid, Jr. AKA OJ.  
  
A particularly strong gust helped him decide to take the shorter way home. A trail wound its way through a thick copse of trees. That wooded area was the only thing standing between him and the warm house. And, even though the branches lacked leaves, they would still provide some protection from frequent gusts of wind. He quickly hopped the chain link fence and followed the well-worn path. Duo jogged along, trying to raise his body temp while hurrying home, but paused when the sound of a struggle caught his attention. He didn’t recognize whom the higher-pitched voice belonged to, but OJ’s nasally sneer echoed loud and clear through the solemn cathedral of the woods.  
  
 _‘Damn,’_ he thought. _‘Sounds like OJ’s found himself another victim.’_ He sighed, knowing what needed to be done, but dreading the fact that he would have to do it. He waited to see if any rescuers were going to show up. As the second voice became more panicked he made a decision. _‘Doesn’t sound like anyone else is going to come to the rescue. Damn! I hate doing this. Where is the white knight when I need him? Why the hell do I do this? Why should I waste my time and risk getting into trouble with Senior over somebody that I don’t know?’_  
  
 _‘Because,’_ his traitorous mind reminded him, _‘you’re better than the hypocrites that say they want to protect children then turn their backs on one that really needs them. So, stop whining and start rescuing!’_ He squared his shoulders and followed the sounds of the brawl.  
  
He stepped into a hidden clearing, only to see his older half-brother trying to rip the slacks off a slight, blonde boy. The boy’s pale blue shirt lay in shreds near them and a few strips of the material had been used to bind the blonde’s hands. Duo knew who the young man was . . . . Quatre Raberba Winner . . . . . the richest boy in school and the youngest son to their father’s employer. How dense could OJ be? Attacking the son of the man whose approval meant a job for their father?  
  
“OJ,” he shouted over the terrified mewls coming from the other boy. “Leave him alone!”  
  
His brother whipped his bulk around and sneered at him. Duo had never seen someone truly sneer, outside of movies, and the expression made his brother look even more like a petulant, spoiled bully. The bigger boy played on the school’s football team as a fullback and happened to be built like a brick outhouse. Of course it didn’t help matters that he had the same amount of brains as a shithouse. He couldn’t recognize anyone who didn’t play sports, but Duo knew that OJ would identify the smaller boy’s older brother.  
  
“That’s Zechs’ younger brother, Dipshit,” he said, pointing to his brother’s victim. “Now I know you plan on attending Winnerton community college in two years and that you want to play on their football team. But I don’t think that it’s a good idea to try and rape your idol’s younger, sweeter and beloved little brother, do you?”  
  
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” came the nasally reply.  
  
“Because I don’t think that father would appreciate you getting him fired.” Duo walked over and stepped between his brother and Quatre. “Now why don’t you make like a tree and leave? I’ll get things cleaned up here and then follow you home, okay?” He knew that OJ would be more than happy to beat him home, that would give him the chance to tell their father what had happened and put a spin in it that would lay the blame totally on Duo’s thin shoulders.  
  
OJ shoved Duo into his former prey and hurried off in the direction of their home. After the crashing sounds were completely gone, Duo turned and faced the poor, little rich boy. He seemed to be in shock, eyes looking past the braided boy and whole body shivering.  
  
Duo sighed, realizing that he couldn’t send the kid home without a shirt - who knows what would happen to him if he did. He shook his head and removed the dubious protection of his jacket. “Here,” he said, placing the covering over the blonde’s shoulders. “I think you might need this.” He shivered as the cold air hit exposed skin.  
  
Quatre blinked as the body-warmed woolen coat wrapped around him. His jacket had gotten lost in the mad dash for safety and now his favorite shirt lay in shreds by his feet. He struggled against the bonds holding his wrists together and looked at the boy who had come to his rescue. He identified him as one of the boys from a couple of his classes. The strange kid always wore the same faded black clothing and he sported his hair in a knee-length braid. Sometimes he came to school with bruises on his face or around his neck and Quatre had heard rumors that the braided one was a prostitute who would do anything to anyone for the right amount of money. He blushed at that thought.  
  
“Th-thank you,” he stammered, his mind starting to work again. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up just then.”  
  
“I know what would have happened and it’s no problem.” Duo freed the kid’s hands, turned and started to walk away. “See ya in school tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.  
  
“Bye!” Quatre chirped, waving at the quickly retreating back. When the braided boy was out of sight, the little blonde sighed and began to finish the walk home. He had decided impulsively to try a new route today. His older brother had always told him not to go through the woods, that there were people who hung out in the grove that would try to hurt him. But being fifteen and tenacious, he elected to find out for himself what really happened in there. He had gotten just out of sight of the school when the big ox had tried to jump him. While he was still rather naïve, he knew what the bigger boy wanted. And while that sounded so romantic in some of the books that he just absolutely loved, being rape didn’t fit in with the plans that he had for the school year. And just as things started to look their worst, in walked the class rebel and he had literally saved Quatre’s ass. He pulled the worn coat closer, trying to draw as much warmth from the threadbare article as possible. He stumbled out of the grove and straight into his bodyguard’s arms.  
  
“Rashid!” he shouted and hugged the man close.  
  
“Master Quatre, where have you been?” Rashid asked, pulling the slight boy close to his chest.  
  
“Well, I decided to explore the woods that you and Zechs said I shouldn’t. I nearly got raped and was rescued by the school tramp. This is his coat. And he didn’t feel like a bad person. As a matter of fact, he seemed kind of sad.” Quatre knew he was speaking too quickly and probably not making much sense, but he couldn’t control the torrent of words pouring from him. Even though the threat had been vanquished, adrenaline still pumped through his system. The added energy had to go somewhere.  
  
“Have you learned your lesson?” the humongous man said, looking down at his charge.  
  
“Yes, I think I have. Never again will I disobey what you and my big brother tell me, promise.”  
  
“Let’s not make promises that we can’t keep. Now, get into the car and we’ll head home. Tomorrow you can return that ratty garment to its rightful owner and that will be that.” Rashid guided his ward into the warm safety of the midnight blue limousine. After securing the door, he climbed into the front seat and drove back to the Winner estate.


	2. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to worse as OJ tattles on his fosterbrother.

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

 

 

Duo crept into the almost quiet house. The eerie, not-quite silence had the hairs on his body crawling to attention, but he didn’t dare start looking around. Most likely OJ’s attack would come from the front and if he left his defenses open he’d be creamed toast, again. He had wandered around the neighborhood in the hope that the bigger boy would get bored with waiting for him and leave. But from the sounds of the infernal rap music coming from the living room, his plan hadn’t worked. He went into the kitchen and began preparing dinner for the family. Not that he’d get a bite to eat, if OJ had anything to say about it.

The stocky boy found an unholy glee in torturing those smaller or younger than him. If faced with a bigger, older or more intelligent opponent, he tended to retreat into confusion. That was Duo’s only protection against the bully. Confuse and conquer that worked every time with OJ.

Owen, on the other hand, was as intelligent as his ‘foster’ son and there would be no using intellect on him. He usually saw through Duo’s inexpert mechanics and could twist them around in order to increase the braided boy’s punishment for various unfounded crimes.

* * * * * *

Owen Reid Reed Sr. had married Duo’s mother after his first wife died in a car accident, leaving him with a two-year-old son and no wife to help him get ahead. Exactly eight months to the day from their wedding date, Duo made his appearance into the world. At birth, he weight only four and a half pounds, but his lungs and spirit were strong and he survived and gained the necessary amount of weight in order to join his family at home. Senior didn’t or couldn’t believe that this tiny, fragile life had come from his seed and he accused Duo’s mother, Angeline, of infidelity. Even after three paternity tests proved that the chestnut-tressed infant carried his blood and genes, Owen couldn’t believe it. 

Duo grew, never reaching the same bulk or height as his older half brother, but his mind was quick and he never complained about doing more than his fair share of the chores. He idolized OJ and would follow the older boy around, trying to keep up with him and his friends. After the third or fourth time he got the crap beaten out of him, he learned to keep his presence hidden from the older boys.

The Reed family lived near Detroit, Michigan where Owen worked as the head of public relations for GM until Mr. Winner managed to entice him to Winner Corp in the same capacity. Angeline worked behind the scenes, making sure that the household ran smoothly, that everything could be ready for unexpected guest in a minute’s notice and that a hot, filling supper waited on the table when Senior walked through the doorway after work.

In the last year that they lived in Michigan, she noticed a small lump in one breast and talked to her husband about it. Senior didn’t believe in going to the doctor’s, said that they were for people with hysteria problems and were a waste of time and money. Why pay a doctor to give the boys their shots when they could go down to the health department and get them for a lot less. So, Angeline didn’t have the swelling treated and after their move to Winnerton, it became obvious that her health was failing.

Owen decided that eleven-year-old Duo would be the perfect nurse, caring for his mother in her last days. And to get around the little problem of school, he had Angeline home school the boy until she couldn’t do it any longer. And everyone was informed that Duo was a cousin and that they were his foster parents. A tale of false misdemeanors earned Owen Senior the respect and sympathy of his new coworkers. After her death, the boy took over more of her responsibilities. 

The night of his mother’s funeral, thirteen-year-old Duo had cried himself to sleep. Well after midnight, he had been woken up when a drunken Owen staggered into his bed and promptly raped the traumatized child. Within a week he found himself firmly ensconced in his father’s bed, dealing with the indignity of the nightly ‘stress relief’. And inside of six months, Owen found a way of getting some of the more perverted members of society to either switch to Winner products or to stay with the company. And for three years, Duo did as he was told to do. The one time he ever threatened to go to the police, his father had threatened him with being put into a foster home and made sure that he knew that foster care would leave him open to worse abuse than he suffered at home. Duo never complained again. 

 

* * * * * *

 

Duo quickly diced up an onion, a couple cloves of garlic, some oregano and basil from the pots that sat in the kitchen’s greenhouse window and threw the whole bunch into a heavy Dutch oven with a couple of dashes of extra-virgin olive oil and sautéed them until the onions and garlic were transparent. He then added three cans of stewed tomatoes, a can of tomato sauce and a couple cans of tomato paste. He stirred the whole thing together and then tasted it. The acidic bite of the tomatoes caused his nose to wrinkle up with distaste and he added a quarter cup of sugar to take some of the acid out. He turned the heat down and let the mixture cook. While it simmered, he fried up some Italian sausage and hamburger. When it reached a deep brown, he carefully drained the mixture and added it to the sauce, leaving the whole thing to cook down and marinate as he finished getting everything else ready for supper. He put a stockpot of water on to boil, for the spaghetti noodles, and pulled a loaf of French bread out of the refrigerator. He slathered a thick layer of butter on the bread, spread more of the fresh garlic over it and topped it with a thick layer of Parmesan cheese that he grated fresh with a special hard cheese grater.

When the bread lay ready to put in the oven, he started working on dessert. He mixed up a batch of homemade tapioca, adding in grated milk chocolate for a slight change. That concoction he threw into the microwave to cook it. While everything cooked, baked or nuked, he pulled out his schoolbooks and began doing the homework that his teachers had assigned. He never knew when Owen would have a new playmate for him to entertain and he couldn’t exactly tell his teachers that he didn’t get his homework done because he had spent the whole evening playing the whore so that Winner Corp didn’t lose an important client.

He chewed on the eraser end of his pencil, thinking about the events of the afternoon. It wasn’t often that Quatre Raberba Winner was found alone. Usually, the petite blonde could be located surrounded by the boys that made up his group of friends. The whole group included Wufei Chang, Heero Yuy and Trowa Barton. Sometimes Quatre’s sister, Relena: Wufei’s girlfriend, Sally and Lucrecia Noin — Zech’s main squeeze, joined the boys. There seemed to always be someone around. Duo sighed, wondering what it would be like to have that many people around him who truly cared about him. And the list didn’t include the forty bodyguards that were never very far away.

The sound of water hissing as it hit the surface of the stove brought him back to reality. There was no way in hell that anyone would care about him like that. His father considered him to be a bastard and lower than a worm. OJ echoed that sentiment and made the braided boy’s life a living hell. And Duo knew that he could disappear and no one would notice. Hell, his teachers never even noticed when he came to school sporting a new black eye or when OJ stole his lunch, leaving him to starve until he got home. Nobody cared about or wanted him. There were times that he hoped his “date” would forget himself and just end Duo’s suffering. He got up and stirred the cooking sauce, allowing himself a little taste of the slowly thickening blend. Supper would be ready when his father walked through the door at precisely six-thirty. 

He gathered up the plates, silverware and napkins to set the table in the dining room. Every night he slaved in the kitchen, set two of everything on that table and then served both the “real” men their dinner, taking his solitary meal in the quiet kitchen. And after they finished with their repast, he cleared the table, rinsed and washed all the dishes then did the other things that he would need to finish before he went to bed; laundry, ironing or one of the dozens of other things that his mother used to do before her death. In some ways he felt totally betrayed by her; she left him to this life of never-ending misery. He sighed and finished setting the table.

At exactly ten after six, he drizzled a little olive oil over the boiling water and then added the noodles, stirring as they went in to keep them from sticking together. The first time he ever made spaghetti, he didn’t know how to stop the pasta from attaching to itself and he had gotten the beating of a lifetime. He learned quickly how to do things right. And there were nights that he could almost wish for a date - at least that would stop Owen from beating him; no one wanted a damaged whore.

Duo wasn’t the only pony in Owen’s stable, either. The woman who came in to do the deep cleaning, once a week, happened to be an illegal alien and her daughter worked for Owen as one of his “entertainment coordinators” just like the braided boy. All the older Reed had to do was threaten the mother with informing the INS about her status there and she’d roll over and bare her belly. In Duo’s mind, Owen became a bully and if this were Hollywood, both he and OJ would get their comeuppance. And hell, if this were a fairy tale, Duo would have a fairy godfather hiding behind the drapes just waiting to rescue him and hand him over to Prince Charming so that they could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, reality kept intruding and Duo knew that that life only existed in dreams or maybe after death. 

At six twenty-five, he drained the noodles and served them up onto the platter. He dished out the sauce, pouring it into a large tureen and covering the dish. Then he pulled the salad that he had prepared the night before out of the refrigerator and made sure the pudding had set up. While the noodles had been cooking, he had thrown the garlic bread under the broiler and the pungent aroma of imported Parmesan and garlic filled the house. As he finished each dish, he took out his small portion and placed it on a plate. 

Just as the grandfather clock in the living room began chiming six-thirty, Duo could hear the garage door opening and the low hum of Owen’s car as he pulled carefully into the garage. Quickly he placed the food on the dining room table and made sure that everything looked as good as it smelled. He heard the door connecting the garage with the rest of the house open and shut, quietly. He hurried back into the kitchen to take his father’s jacket, briefcase and any other thing that he might need to be relieved of.

Owen looked similar to his oldest son; tall, broad-shouldered with collar length brown hair and shrewd, dark brown eyes. The only difference between father and son was their weight; OJ weighed nearly three hundred pounds and Owen tipped the scales at two hundred. With his height — six foot four inches - and his age — forty-five — he still fit the clothing that he wore when he graduated from college. The only thing that gave away his age was is face and the heavily etched lines that creased it. 

He smiled down at Duo, leaving the braided youth trembling with frightened anticipation. Something in that Cheshire cat grin caused Duo’s heart to plummet to his knees. The older man caressed his son’s cheek in a mockery of a fatherly gesture and the boy knew that something really not good was or had happened. He swallowed the knot that formed in his throat and looked at the things he held onto. Owen’s jacket and briefcase were joined by a box from a Fredrick’s of Hollywood knock off. The name had Duo almost hyperventilating until he remembered that several of his frequent dates used the same seller - it didn’t have to be the one he automatically thought of.

He sagged into his chair, his appetite having fled with the sight of that box. He could hear OJ’s voice bellowing over the so-called music. Owen’s voice rose above the song with the command to “turn that shit off!” and silence reigned supreme for all of thirty seconds. Then Duo could hear OJ telling their father his version of what happened in the woods that afternoon, leaving out the fact that his intended victim was Mr. Winner’s son.

“Duo,” Owen called, his voice tolerating no disobedience.

“Sir?” Duo squeaked as he came into the room. Hopefully Owen would allow him to explain why he had interfered with his brother’s hunt. 

Owen grabbed his wrist, holding it very gently. “I understand that you intervened with your brother and his new boyfriend. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Only that the boy OJ chose to attack was Quatre Winner,” he said, looking down at his feet.

“What?” Duo winced as the grip on his wrist caused the bones to rub together.

“I’ve got a couple of classes with him and recognized him right away. I’m sorry, Sir. Would you please let go of my wrist? You’re hurting me,” he whimpered. Duo sighed with relief as the pressure on his aching joint disappeared. And then his jaw dropped as Owen stood up and began punching his oldest son.

“You stupid bastard!” Owen growled, slamming his fist into OJ’s stomach. “What are you trying to do? Get me fired? I can’t believe that you’re my son. How could I have produced such a complete idiot?” He pointed to the stairs heading to the second story. “Get your ass up there and don’t let me see you until you grow a brain!”

OJ bolted up the stairs, blubbering and clutching at his injured stomach. After the heavy footsteps ceased, Owen turned his attention back to the slight figure in front of him. He sat back down in chair and studied the braided beauty.

“Duo,” he said, keeping his voice soft and gentle. “What would you do to help your family?”

“Anything, Sir,” Duo whispered, still looking at his feet.

“I’m glad to hear that, because I have a … ah … new/old client for you.”

Duo’s breath came in short pants. He knew whom Owen wanted him to see again, but he had been promised that he would never have to date that man again. Owen promised.

“Who,” he murmured, his whole body shaking with fear.

“Roger Muscat,” came the bland answer.

“No!” he said.

“Duo, you said that you would do anything to help your family. Is one date too much to ask of you?” Owen snidely said, standing up to tower over the terrified youth.

“Yeah, well you said I wouldn’t have to see him again after he almost killed me the last time!”

“Well, the bastard did some digging and has information that could cost me my job!” He reached out and grabbed Duo’s braid at the base. “And what he wants to keep quiet is a week of nights with his favorite little pony. And that’s what he’s going to get, understand?”

Tears flooded down Duo’s cheeks as he looked at his father. “You promised!” he cried. “What did I ever do to make you hate me? Why don’t you just kill me yourself?”

Owen’s right hand flashed out and the back of it connected with the boy’s tear-streaked cheek, knocking him to the floor. “You will do as you’re told! Understand me, Bitch?”

“Yes, Sir,” Duo replied, his voice dead.

“Good. The package I brought home is for you. I’ll arrange for the car to take you to the apartment and pick you up at midnight.” He sat back down and began eating. “I think that you need to go and get ready. And Duo, make sure that your homework is done before you leave, I don’t know if you’ll have time to do it after you get home.”

“Yes, Sir.” Duo walked up the stairs, into the bathroom and began getting ready. He knew exactly what Roger wanted and expected of him. His soul lay bloody and bleeding after having just been killed by the one person who should have loved him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatre goes looking for his savior and finds a very beaten, depressed Duo. Trowa follows his almost boyfriend and sees something that truly pisses him off. Duo is attacked and leaves in a daze, leaving the two boys to come to an understanding.

**PRIDE AND A FALL**

 

 

Duo sat on a fallen tree trunk, the icy October wind swirling around him. The sharp knives from the breeze cut through his thin shirt and eased the various cuts and bruises that adorned his body. Last night had been the hell he knew it would be.

Thin, black marks encircled his wrists from the steel handcuffs that Roger had used on him. Being hung from the ceiling, by nothing more than his wrists and barely being able to put weight on his big toes certainly didn’t help the muscles in his shoulders. He sported a black eye and rope burns around his neck where his tormentor had practiced his breath-control techniques. 

The tardy bell sounded in the distance and Duo couldn’t bring himself to care whether or not he missed class. Just sitting in the cold felt good and the sore parts of his body were starting to go numb from the frigid air. As a matter of fact, his mind and body were starting to go dead. He knew what that meant, with the weather getting colder by the second and the first snowfall due by nightfall. Hypothermia wouldn’t be a bad way to die. You just slip off to sleep and never wake up, all bodily functions stopped by the cold and you dream your way into paradise. There were worse ways to go.

Of course if his coat had been present, then he wouldn’t have had the courage to even think of this idea. But since the poor, little, rich boy still had his tattered excuse for a jacket, he could hope. 

He dreaded the thought of going into the school. Seeing everyone trying not to notice him and then talking about him behind his back. The teachers pretended not to notice his beaten face and body. One teacher had tried to help him and all it got the poor woman was a discharge notice from the district for sticking her nose where it wasn’t wanted.

 

@ @ @ @ @ @

 

Quatre waited by the main doorway into the school, hoping to see his longhaired savior from the day before; around him stood his group of friends. Wufei and Sally were off to one side, busily trying to swallow each other’s tongues. Heero and Trowa chatted quietly behind him and he could hear his dingbat of a sister doing her best to attract the Japanese boy’s attention. Their parents were set on the two of them marrying and joining the best of both worlds together. Well, Heero’s parents and Quatre’s father that was. 

He couldn’t understand why Duo hadn’t shown up yet. He had seen the boy that attacked him come in over a half hour ago. The warning bell went off and still no sign of the one that he wanted to see. A feeling of wrongness clenched his gut. Something wasn’t right and Duo needed help.

“Trowa,” he said, looking at his closest friend and pulling on his coat. “I’ll be back. I need to check something out; would you cover for me in homeroom?” The rooster-banged boy gave him a small smile in agreement. “Thanks, I’ll be back before classes start for real, I hope.” He hugged his friend and hurried out of the warm building.

He pulled his coat closer, thanking Allah that he taken it off for a bit before settling in to wait on his quarry. In his left hand he held the shabby jacket that he had been loaned the day before. He smiled at the memory of what he had done the night before and couldn’t wait for everything to fall into place. The feeling of urgency pulled him toward the woods where he had been assaulted and he stopped for a minute. He shivered in delayed reaction. He had babbled out his story to Rashid and then changed the series of events to reflect better on him. Something told him that to reveal what had really happened would cause more trouble for the boy who had helped him. Besides, he didn’t want people to think that he didn’t have a spine and couldn’t protect himself. He had his pride.

He stumbled through the woods, desperation coursing throughout his slender frame and nearly blocking out the invasive cold. Something wasn’t right. The feelings that emanated from the hidden figure weren’t like anything he had ever felt before in his life. 

A soul-devouring self-loathing drew him like a moth to the moon. The life force that flickered just in front of him had begun to gutter, like a candle that would soon consume the last little bit of wax and then disappear in a quick puff of scented smoke. The path he had unconsciously found led him deeper into the copse and his footsteps instinctively sped up. Just as he reached a break in the trees where he could see more than two feet in front of him, his tired feet got tangled up in something and he went sprawling face first into the moist, loamy soil of the forest. The bitter scent of tannin, wet earth and dying plant life overwhelmed his poor nose and he sneezed.

“G’ bless you,” murmured a familiar voice.

“Duo?” Quatre asked, sitting up and wiping the soil off his face.

“Dat’s m’ name. Don’ wear it out…” 

Quatre looked at the boy who had come to his rescue not more than twenty-four hours ago. Gone was the tight, neat braid; Duo’s hair had escaped its confines. A vacant, hopeless expression covered his features and once bright, violet eyes stared off into nothing. Of course only one eye could be seen through the patchwork of bruises that decorated the other boy’s face and neck. Delicate wrists carried the mark of something thin and Duo held his arms close to his body like they were causing him pain.

“Duo,” Quatre quietly said, “What happened to you?”

“Nothin’” the braided boy responded. He looked at the petite blonde sitting on the cold ground. “Nothin’ happened. It was a peachy night. Couldn’t be better. How was your night?”

“One of those men that you sleep with did this didn’t they?” Quatre asked, his voice becoming sharper with anger. “Why do you let them do this to you? Why don’t you just stop doing what you’re doing and be good for the sake of your family?”

Duo stared at him, sense and reality returning to his eyes. “The sake of my family?” he barked. “Do you even know what the hell you’re talking about?”

“I know that your foster father worries about you and can’t understand why you do these things. Or at least that’s what he tells my father. He really cares about you, don’t you know that?” Quatre got up off the moist ground and walked toward the braided boy. Duo’s lips were blue — where they weren’t torn and bruised — and his hands were a pasty white due to exposure. “Why don’t you come back and join us in school? I’m sure that Owen would be happy if you were in class.” He carefully draped the clean, mended coat over the slender shoulders of the boy. 

“Class. Oh yeah, we can’t miss any school can we?” Duo sarcastically said. He looked at the little blonde who had brought his coat back to him. “So, what’s the repair job going to cost me? You wanna ride the cheap little whore too? Is that what you’re doing out here?” Duo’s voice rose with each sentence until it was a near screech. He stood up and began backing Quatre up.

Quatre stumbled away from the other boy. Duo’s eyes flashed with anger as he kept stalking toward him and something in that furious face made him even more scared than he had been the day before. He tripped over the exposed root of one of the trees that made up the small copse and the roughish-smoothness of the bark scrapped against his hands. He found himself trapped and the maddened Duo stalked closer to him. The braided boy reached him and pushed him tighter against the tree.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Duo said, his voice dropping seductively. “Do you want to find out why I do the things I do? Do you think you can handle the truth? Things aren’t always what they seem to be, little prince.” The pale, cold hands began to massage Quatre’s groin through his pants and the petite blonde began moaning. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours he found himself at the mercy of someone who was intent on doing something to his body that he wasn’t quite ready for.

“D-d-duo,” he gasped, “please don’t do this.”

“I thought you wanted to know why.” Duo glared into Quatre’s softer, innocent eyes. “You didn’t tell anyone about what happened with OJ yesterday, did you?”

“I told Rashid that I had gotten into a fight,” he said, closing his eyes and turning his face away from the other boy. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“I do,” Duo choked out.

“You do?”

“Yeah. If you tell someone then it becomes real and you have to face what almost happened to you. By making it seem to be less than it truly was, then it really didn’t happen and you don’t have to deal with the consequences or even think anymore about what could have gone wrong.”

“How would you know that?” Quatre asked, stunned to hear his own thoughts coming from someone else.

“Let’s just say I’ve been there, done that and, as they say, bought the tee-shirt.” He closed his eyes, but not before Quatre felt a flash of self-loathing and pain that nearly sent him to his knees. “Thanks for not getting the idiot into trouble. And before you say anything, I told Owen what happened and he punished the moron. So, you don’t have to worry about him coming after you again.” Duo dropped to his knees and began nuzzling the front of Quatre’s trousers. “I guess that I owe you twice.”

The petite blonde moaned at the delicious friction caused by Duo’s face and he carefully worked his fingers into the chestnut hair. The feelings coming from the other boy were stronger the more contact he had with him and they threatened to overwhelm the delicate empath. A deep-seated self-hatred, a disgust of what he was about to do and the tiniest fraction of true arousal raced up Quatre’s arms. His brain nearly shut down with the strength of the emotions and he moaned in pain.

Duo pulled down his zipper with his teeth and then used his frigid hands to pull the blonde’s partially erect cock out of its protective barrier. He swirled his tongue around the circumcised head, teasing the glands underneath with his talented tongue. Quatre could feel the other boy’s warm breath puffing against his exposed member. He nearly fainted when his cock was swallowed and touched the very back of the braided boy’s throat. He felt frozen in place with his fingers buried in chestnut locks and his knees were getting weak. A low hum proved to be his undoing; he shot his load into the other boy’s mouth, ignoring the soft sounds of choking that reached his ears.

Duo carefully let the organ slip from his mouth, being extra gentle with the over-sensitized flesh. He sat with his head down, waiting for Quatre to regain his senses. Something slammed into his back, knocking him away from the little blonde. A wave of pain washed over him as he landed on some of his injuries. Self-preservation forced him to scramble away and put his torn back against the rough bark of one of the centuries old oaks that made up the copse. He looked toward Quatre, hoping to see who or what attacked him. One green eye and a uni-bang faced him, the eye blazed with both concern and jealousy. 

_'Oh great! It’s wonder boy’s not-boyfriend.'_ Duo thought, watching the two of them together.

Trowa had gotten worried about Quatre. Rashid had told him about the fight when the massive man had driven the two of them to school. Trowa had shown up at the normal time to ride with the pair and the little blonde had run back into the house to get a package he said was for someone at school. Something hadn’t been right about Quatre’s behavior the night before and the bodyguard had hoped that Trowa could get the information from his best friend and secret crush.

After Quatre had left the security of the school building, Trowa had waited to see if he would return. He had remained where he had been when the other boy left him, after asking Heero to run interference for both of them. When Quatre hadn’t returned by the time the tardy bell rang, Trowa had known that there was something happening and his little friend would need his help. There were too many predators that went to their school and while he found the petite blonde’s innocent endearing, there were a lot of others that would defile and ruin the sunny personality. 

It hadn’t been hard to trace his little one: Trowa’s father insisted that his only son know how to track and hunt and he put those skills to work. The signs of someone passing in the last half hour, heading into the woods and not out of them, lead the banged boy to the clearing where he saw something that both shocked and aroused him.

To see his little one, his sweet Quatre pinned against a tree while the boy that Trowa knew turned tricks at night sucked him off drove the banged boy to do something that he had vowed he never would. He became violent with the intruder, pushing him away from his territory. Of course he hadn’t planned on Quatre getting caught up in his actions. The petite blond lost his balance as Duo was pushed away from him and he fell once more to the cold, damp loam.

“T-t-t-trowa?” he stuttered, looking up at his friend.

“Are you all right?” Trowa asked. He reached out and helped to right the fallen boy.

“I’m fine. I thought that you were going to make sure that the teacher didn’t notice I’m not there right now.”

“Yuy is doing it. You should be glad that I came when I did.” He glared over at the other boy, not noticing the various signs of abuse on him. “C’mon. We need to get to class.”

“But–”

“No buts. It’s time for school and since you plan on doing something with your life….” He left the comment hanging and glared over at Duo. “Unlike some people you have prospects in this life.” He wrapped a possessive arm around Quatre’s shoulders and began to walk him back toward the school building.

“Trowa, you have no idea of what’s really going on here,” Quatre said, stepping away from him. A wave of brutal self-hatred washed over him, driving him back to his knees. His eyesight went dark for a few seconds as his brain tried to process the overload of emotion that swept through him. When his sight cleared, Duo had moved out of the clearing and was almost out of earshot.

“Quatre!?” Trowa shouted as he shook the other boy.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “We need to catch Duo.”

“Why would you want to go anywhere near him? Look what he did to you! He tried to rape you and took advantage of your sweet disposition.” Trowa swept him up in his arms and began the trek back to the school. Somehow he’d find a way to make Duo Maxwell pay for what he did to Quatre.

* * * * * *

Duo limped to the building, clutching his left arm tight against his ribs. None of the bones were broken, that he knew of, but the pummeling that Roger had given him the night before caused some deep bone bruises and when Barton had thrown him away from Quatre they began to throb. He rested against the cold brick of the structure, trying to pull himself together. What he had done in the woods was inexcusable, but maybe someone would hear his cry for help; someone with the power to make things stop. Or at least that’s the reason he told himself. Winner seemed like a nice kid and he had lots of friends. It would be nice to be that innocent again.

_'Yeah keep on wishing, Maxwell,'_ he thought, moving into the warmth of the school and heading for his locker. _'If wishes were fishes, we’d all walk on water. I wonder what it’s like to have a normal family. To not have to worry about OJ doing something really stupid or to have a father that loves you for being yourself. That’s not going to happen to me in a zillion years. And, hey, if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.'_

His repaired coat went into his locker along with his backpack and he pulled out the books that he would need for the next couple of classes. He had missed about the first quarter of his lit class, but the teacher could be bought off with a quick smile and a few glib, but well-spoken words. He closed his eyes, pulled his thoughts together, pasted his devil-may-care smile on his face and headed off to his class. At least no one would see the tears behind the mask and if he lived through the week then Roger would leave Owen alone and things could get back to normal. It was funny; the abnormal had become normal for him. 

 

* * * * * *  
Trowa and Quatre got about halfway back to the school before the blonde began protesting his treatment at the banged boy’s hands. He wanted to walk the rest of the way back; reclining in the arms of his secret crush had some embarrassing results. About the third time he almost dropped Quatre because of his struggling, Trowa put him down. When his feet touched the earth again, the petite blonde found his hand gripped in a tight grasp. Trowa’s feelings of insecurity and jealousy made the smaller boy smile with joy and then he remembered what he needed to do.

“Trowa,” he said as they entered the building.

“Hm?” 

“I need to find Duo and get an explanation from him. I don’t know what he was thinking or what really happened to him, but I do know that he went out of his way to save me from getting beaten up yesterday and I owe him at least a chance to tell me why he did that to me.”

Trowa looked at him through his bangs, green eyes serious and deep in thought. “All right, you do what you think is best. But I’m coming with you and we’ll do it at lunch. Maxwell has the same lunch period as we do and we’ll corner him then. Is that acceptable?”

“Very much so. But let me do the talking.” He smiled up at the taller boy. “You don’t always have a way with words and you’re not known for the talent to babble like I am.” He carefully extracted his hand from Trowa’s, letting the other boy know that it was with great reluctance that he was doing it, and started to head off to his first class. The plan that the green-eyed boy came up with would be perfect. He would have some protection against Duo trying anything like he had done this morning and would give Quatre the time that he needed to figure out why the braided boy did the things he did.

Unfortunately, Duo had other plans and the meeting never happened. He managed to avoid Quatre and his friends for most of the week but fate had plans of her own for the braided youth.


	4. Law and Order

LAW AND ORDER

 

Duo shook his head to clear it. Last night had been the worst of the week. Roger had beaten him bloody and spent a good amount of time applying his foot to Duo’s gut. Gym was the last thing that he needed right now, but there would be no skipping class.

Owen had gone ballistic when the call from the school had come on Tuesday afternoon, informing him of his foster son’s tardiness to his first class. For some unknown reason, Ms Une, Duo’s homeroom teacher, had taken an immediate disliking to the boisterous boy and looked for any chance to make his life a living hell. Fortunately for him, Owen didn’t want to damage him too badly before his date that night, so he had gotten off with severe verbal assault and a few added bruises. But Roger had more than made up for the lack of abuse from his father.

Duo’s stomach churned uncomfortably and he swallowed, trying to keep from tossing the little bit of breakfast he had managed to choke down before leaving for school. They were playing flag football in phys Ed and things had become very interesting with Trowa Barton glaring across the line of scrimmage at him. Duo had managed to avoid the rooster-banged boy and his naïve boyfriend for most of the week. He had gotten very good at avoiding people that he didn’t want to deal with.

Duo huddled closer to the other players on his team as they discussed what their next play would be. With the other bodies in the circle, he was almost warm. For some reason, today, he just couldn’t get or stay warmed up.

“All right,” Mitch, their quarterback, said. “We’ll send Duo straight up the middle and pull a fake. Jeremy, I want you to come back like you’re going to receive the ball and then I’ll pass it to Duo. Got it? Good. Let’s do this.” The team broke out of the huddle and took their positions on the field. Duo watched, with dismay, as Trowa took his place right across from him on the scrimmage line. The green-eyed boy looked at him and gave him a very nasty grin. Somehow, Duo knew that things weren’t going to work as they had planned. 

Mitch’s voice sounded over the sharp wind and both lines went into motion with the snap of the ball. Duo ran up field, turning sideways to watch for the throw. The oblong pigskin sailed perfectly through the bright late autumn day, spiraling at the right angle, speed and whatnot to make a flawless flight. Duo caught the ball and turned back to start his run up the field. Trowa crashed into his side and they fell into a tangled heap.

The braided boy screamed in pain as he felt something in his chest snap with the force of the tackle and the shriek ended in an indignant squawk as the air was driven out of his lungs. The right side of his chest felt like someone had driven a red-hot poker through the skin. As the ability to breath came back he could feel his lung bubble with every breath. He coughed, bringing up a gush of red, foamy liquid. He sat there and just stared at the fluid dripping off his hands. His head began to spin and the edges of his sight started to turn black and close in. He looked up at his attacker with a puzzled expression on his face.

Trowa backed away from his victim, shaking his head in disbelief at the damage his temper had caused. He started to apologize to the other boy, but Duo never heard it. He passed out cold, his breath coming in horrible, wet sounding wheezes.

The teacher sent everyone back into the building with the command to stay in the gym until things were taken care of. He grabbed Trowa by the scruff of the neck and dispatched him to the principal’s office with the orders to send the school nurse down to the field and to have someone call for an ambulance. He wasn’t happy about the events of the day and had every intention of finding out just what was going on between the two boys. 

Trowa ran for the nurse’s office, his mind running over what had happened on the field. For some unknown reason, he had attacked a defenseless boy. He had seen part of what Duo had done to Quatre and that may have set him off, but he never really meant to harm the smaller young man. He shuddered with horror at the memory of all the blood spilling from the braided boy’s mouth. Trowa’s long legs made the lengthy distance to the medical area of the school a short run. As he entered the building, he almost ran down Quatre, who was heading for the bathroom with a hall pass in his hands.

“Trowa?” the little blonde said as he dodged out of the way.

“Later,” Trowa shouted over his shoulder and continued on his way for help. He skidded to a stop just outside the office and listened to be sure that Ms. Po didn’t have another student in the office with her. The sound of near silence made him feel better, knowing that he wouldn’t interrupt someone else’s time with the nurse.

“Ms. Po?” he said as he entered the room. “There’s a problem on the football field and Mr. Daniels needs an ambulance as soon as possible.”

Sarah Po, Sally’s mother, looked up at the young man standing in her doorway; the serious look told her all she needed to know. “What’s going on?”

“Duo Maxwell took a hit in our flag football game and he started coughing up blood. It looks really bad.”

“All right. Tell your teacher that I’m calling the rescue squad now and will be out in just a few minutes. I have one more question for you.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What did the blood look like?”

“It was bright red and well, kinda foamy, I guess is what I’d call it.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in about three minutes, can you do that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He bolted out the door and almost ran over the mystified Quatre again. He used the smaller boy to gain his balance and gave him a very serious look. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, releasing the petite blonde and racing back out to the field.

* * * * * *

Duo woke up; feeling like an elephant had planted itself right in the middle of his chest. The weight made it difficult to breath and the wet sound of every breath scared him. Something wasn’t right and he had the urge to run for the safety of his home. He tried to struggle to a seated position, but a gentle hand on his shoulder prevented him from getting any further than part way up.

“Stay down, Maxwell,” the teacher said, easing him back to the ground.

The cold damp from the earth seeped into his bones and Duo began to shake. For some reason, his mind didn’t want to work right, but he knew that if he missed anymore classes, he would be in big trouble at home.

“Gotta go,” he murmured. “Can’t stay here. Gotta get to my next class.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be heading anywhere soon, young man,” Mr. Daniels said, looking down at the fragile body lying on the moist ground.

“No! Can’t miss any more classes. Owen said so.” He tried again to get to a seated position. The world spun around him and his stomach threatened to rebel. He drooped back to the earth and closed his eyes to stop the spinning.

“I think that Owen will understand, Duo.”

“You don’t know him,” Duo sobbed, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. “He’ll…. never mind.” Twin lines of tears ran from his eyes to his hairline. He stopped himself from sobbing again, knowing that it would only cause him more pain. The dull thud of shoes hitting the turf signaled someone’s return. Duo turned his head to see who raced up so quickly. He looked on as Trowa sprinted back to the spot where he started this whole thing. Duo tried to move away from his attacker, but his damaged body wouldn’t allow him to move. He cried out in pain as he shifted his ribs.

“Easy now,” Trowa said, kneeling beside him and gently stroking his hair.

“You son of a bitch,” Duo spat out around the lump of pain. The violence of his response caused him to start coughing again and he nearly choked on the thick, copper-flavored fluid that came up with the spasm. His eyes watered with pain and the edges of his vision became blurry.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the banged boy calmly said. He gave Duo a smile that was meant to reassure him, but left him feeling very uncertain of where things lay. 

The sound of quick, light footsteps broke the tension a bit as Quatre ran over to where his friend and Duo were. The look of concern on his face worried the braided one just a bit.

“What happened here?” Quatre asked, reaching them. 

“It’s no big deal, Kitty-cat-cat-Quatre,” Duo responded, trying to sound like his old self.

“No big deal?! There’s blood on…”

“Quatre, I’ll explain everything later,” Trowa said, getting up and leading the petite blonde away from the site.

“But….”

“Later. Right now we’re just trying to keep him calm until the ambulance gets here and we can get him to the hospital.”

Quatre felt the horror and shame that Trowa was feeling. Somehow he had something to do with Duo’s condition and he felt ashamed and horrified by what he had done. Quatre gave his best friend an encouraging smile and wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist. 

Duo lay on the ground and a wave of jealousy washed over him at the sight of the two young men holding each other. No one had ever held him like that. The only time that he ever got held was after a date had gotten what he wanted and the man lay sated on the bed, then and only then was his needs sometimes thought of. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and he turned his face away from the sight. He gave into the growing blackness and slipped back into unconsciousness again.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Consciousness returned to the braided boy when the emergency vehicle had completed about half the journey to the hospital. The tank-like suspension of the ambulance left much to be desired in the way of comfort. Duo could feel every pothole and jolt the tires hit and with every bump, lump and thud of the undercarriage he got a strong reminder of why he lay strapped to the board with his head in blocks and a cervical collar on. Not that he needed all the stuff, but since he had been unresponsive, the paramedics thought that it would be for the best if they made sure that there weren’t any other unseen injuries hiding under the myriad of bruises that decorated poor Duo’s skin. The only problem with their plan is that the patient couldn’t breathe very well in a prone position and his body threatened to go into respiratory arrest before they arrived at the hospital. The thick blood clogged his air passage and he kept the emergency team busy suctioning out the stuff. 

His time in the emergency room stayed dream-like in his mind. It was a series of shouting voices, endless pain, pokes, prods and jabs. The doctor ordered a variety of tubes to be inserted into Duo’s body. The incessant burn of the tube that had been put in the collapsed lung fortunately overshadowed the indignity of the catheter. While the throbbing seemed eternal, at least his breathing became easier and the temporary airway that the paramedics put in place could be taken out of his nose. 

The nurse in charge of his case got him as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances, and stepped out to see about a room in the intensive care unit for him. The frantic noise of the past half hour or more slipped into the endless drone of the heart monitor beeping with every heartbeat and the distant sounds of people talking, phones ringing and the occasional overhead page. The unusual lullaby had him drifting, of course the drugs that had been given for pain and anxiety helped with the detached feelings. 

 

* * * * * *

 

Trowa watched from the sidelines with Quatre next to him as the paramedics rushed over and began helping Ms Po with the injured Duo. A few, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he surveyed the outcome of his loss of temper. He had no right to harm the other boy and there was really no reason for his actions either. Quatre had explained everything that happened that morning in the woods and while he didn’t like it, his little one should have handled the situation. But the frustration of being avoided for days on end caught up with him and when the opportunity arose he took full advantage of it.

It never occurred to him to wonder where all of the bruises and other injuries that Duo sported this week came from. Trowa knew – in a general way – where they had come from, but he didn’t understand why someone with Duo’s looks, brains and personality sold his body. Maybe Quatre had it right and there was more going on then they could see. Sometimes seeing things from the outside didn’t make the view any clearer.

The wet, wheezy sound of Duo’s breathing worried the banged boy and he hugged the petite blonde a little tighter in his arms. The feel of Quatre’s body molding to his almost drew his mind away from the whole set of circumstances … almost. As the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, Trowa let go of Quatre turned on his heel and broke into a loose-limbed lope toward the student parking lot and his car. He’d follow the emergency vehicle to the hospital and when he could, talk to Duo about the day’s happenings. And when he finished discussing the whole thing, he’d turn himself into the local police for assault and battery. It would be the least that he could do. 

Quatre followed behind the disturbed Trowa, barely keeping up with the longer legs of the tall boy. Something had happened and he intended to find out exactly what it was. He reached Trowa’s car as the banged boy slipped behind the wheel. The tiny blonde stood beside the passenger’s side door, waiting for the other boy to notice him and unlock the door. 

Trowa looked up, the feeling of someone standing next to the car breaking into the cloud of guilt that surrounded him. Seeing Quatre standing there brought a small, sad smile to his lips. He reached across the seat and unlocked the door, letting his little one in. He started the car and maneuvered it out of the student parking lot. 

Quatre allowed Trowa to get the vehicle out on the main drag before he looked at his secret crush. He turned toward the driver and cocked his head.

“Want to tell me what happened on the field, Trowa?”

“I did something that I’m not too proud of,” Trowa responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

“And that would be?”

“I was given the chance to get my revenge on Maxwell for his treatment of you the other day and took advantage of the situation. I tackled him instead of just going for his flags. And after I hit him, he screamed and coughed up a bunch of foamy blood.” He turned his head, slightly, and gave Quatre a horrified look. “I didn’t mean to really hurt him. I think I might have broken at least one rib and drove it into his lung.”

“Oh, Trowa!” Quatre gasped. “Why? Didn’t I tell you that I would handle things?”

“Yes, but I was tired of waiting for things to happen.”

“He might not trust either of us again, you do realize that don’t you?”

Trowa sighed and nodded his head. He couldn’t help feeling slightly vindicated but the realization that he may have ruined any chance for them to help the braided boy weighed heavily on him. That and the fact he had disappointed Quatre had him looking into the mirror to see the worm that he had become.

“We really need to keep you away from Heero, Trowa!” Quatre giggled. “You’re beginning to act more and more like him. Trounce first - question your motives second. What a mess you’ve made.” 

“Tell me about it. How do I make the needed repairs? What do I say to him the next time I see him?” Trowa glanced out of the corner of one eye at Quatre. 

“Let me think,” Quatre said, staring off into space. “There’s got to be a reason why he does the things he does. It’s got something to do with the family that he’s living with. Either his pimp is threatening them or…no, that couldn’t be.”

“Quatre?”

“I was just thinking that Mr. Reed could be the one selling Duo’s body, but it just doesn’t fit the pattern. There’s something going on in that family and we’re going to need to find out what if we’re going to help Duo.” He sighed, remembering what had happened, both times in the woods. “I don’t think I’ll be going into the woods anytime soon. Too many things have gone on in there. Do you think that some people are just lucky when it comes to life?”

Trowa pondered Quatre’s question, mulling over the idea and carefully choosing his words. “I think we make our own luck by the choices that we make. Yes, we can’t pick our families, but we can do the best we can for them.”

“And what if our families do things that could harm us or put our lives in danger?”

“Then there will come a point where we must choose what’s right for ourselves and leave the family to fend for themselves,” Trowa stated bluntly.

Quatre smiled at the green-eyed boy. Trowa’s speech had startled the petite blonde. It was the longest string of words the young man had ever put together. It gave the blonde warm fuzzies to think they could have such a serious discussion.

“And,” teased Trowa. “I’m nothing like Yuy.”

Quatre burst into a fresh round of giggles. He reached out and took the other boy’s hand in his. Trowa’s larger hand engulfed his smaller, more delicate one. The electric tingle that sparked between their entangled fingers had them sitting in contented silence all the way to the hospital.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Twenty-year-old Treize Khushrenada couldn’t believe his luck. He had come to the high school to do an exposé on one of the promising senior football players for the Mount Morey University newspaper. The editor of the paper and he had a falling out his freshman year and he usually ended up with the crap assignments. But fate –once again- assisted her favorite son and a juicy story dropped right into his hands.

The battered, delicate-looking boy had caught his attention. The bruised elfin-featured kid had two things that captured the ginger-haired reporter –big amethyst eyes that shone dully from the myriad of contusions and that mass of chestnut hair.

Treize could imagine what it would be like to have that hair scattered over his naked chest. He had very specific tastes in his lovers; they had to have long hair and he loved them young. That abused boy fit both requirements. The braided one would be an easy mark, just offer him a way out of his current situation and he would be more than willing to do whatever Treize asked of him. None of his lovers ever lasted very long…. the longest being for three months. 

A mystery lingered around the injured boy and Treize had every intention of finding out what exactly what had caused the bruises and other injuries on the poor little thing. He had enough to write the article on the future football star, now for some real reporting. One of the boys stood out from the rest. Mitch Revelson had played quarterback on the play before kid had been smashed to the turf. He knew Mitch through the young man’s older brother, David; he and Treize were in the same fraternity.

“Mitch,” he called out in his cultured voice. 

“Treize?” the young man said, seeing who was calling for him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You know me, I’m not one to miss any games that you play in.”

“Yeah, right. So, what are you really doing here?”

“I’m representing the Mount Morey Gazette and doing an exclusive on one of the players from your class.”

“That makes sense, I think.” He stared at the other man. “What can I do for you?”

“What do you know about the boy that was rushed to the hospital?”

“Not too much. Although, I’ve heard that he can be bought for the right price.”

“Are you telling me that he’s a whore?” Treize asked, incredulously. He couldn’t believe his luck. First the little lovely and now finding out that he could be had for a price. Fate truly did love him. He would be able to do an entire piece on teenaged prostitution with a true prostitute to answer all his questions. A major newspaper might even pick this up and he could win a Pulitzer for his work. He smiled at Mitch and held out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Tell me how or who to get in touch with to hire him for a night.”


	5. Chapter 5

EVERYONE’S A VICTIM

 

Duo drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes the pain would overwhelm the medication that he had been given to stop it and he would flounder into full consciousness. During those short periods of awareness, he worried about what his father would say or do to him for this fiasco. It wasn’t his fault that Barton had lost his temper and creamed him during the game.

The fourth time he struggled awake, Owen was there, sitting in a chair next to the bed. His handsome features were set in a look of disgust and barely contained rage. Duo tried to draw back from him, fear evident on his face.

“I see that you’re awake,” Owen growled at him, getting to his feet and coming over to the bed. 

“Yes, sir,” Duo squeaked his voice and body trembling with ill-concealed fear.

“I can’t believe that you’re any relation to me. One little hit and you’re running up medical bills. You are a total waste of money and if I didn’t need you for your talents, I wouldn’t keep you around.” He gave Duo a malicious grin. “As a matter of fact, Roger has offered me fifteen hundred dollars for you. And after today, I’m really considering it.”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what? Didn’t think about how this would affect the family? Didn’t care about what would happen to your brother and me if certain information got out?” He raised his hand and brought it down against the boy’s cheek.

Duo whimpered when his father’s broad hand smacked his face. The movement set off a series of sharp pains throughout his whole body. One, crystalline tear ran into the chestnut hair at his temple. He knew better than to cry out, that would only lead to more pain when he got home. No one would dare go against his father. There would be no prince on a white horse to come to his rescue. Duo understood at that point that there would come a day when he ceased to be useful and then he would disappear. He could almost hear Owen telling the people at work that his naughty foster son had gotten fed up with the life he was leading and had run away from home.

“I don’t see what Roger sees in you,” Owen sneered. “You’re fat, ugly and couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation if you tried. As a matter of fact, I don’t know what any of your Johns see in you. And I can see why you don’t have any friends; no one would want to be friends with a worthless little bitch whore like you. You disgust me.” He glared down at Duo with a look that most people reserve for what they step in on the lawn. “Don’t expect to see me again until you’re ready to leave. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Duo murmured, barely able to keep the tears that threatened from falling. “I’ll have the hospital call you when I’m ready to be discharged.”

“Good, you do that.” Owen turned on his heel and strode out of the room. His hurried footsteps carried him past the family waiting room where two of Duo’s classmates waited for permission to see him. The smaller of the two sat, riveted to his seat, both hands clutching his shirt above his heart with silent tears running down his face.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Quatre and Trowa had gotten to the hospital while Duo was still in the emergency room, but because they weren’t related to the patient, they were informed that they would have to wait until Mr. Reid got there before they could see the braided boy. After he had been transferred to the intensive care unit, they were shown to the family room to wait until Duo’s father made his appearance. The smallish room had four large recliners, a table with four chairs, a microwave and a coffeemaker all crammed into it. Against the back wall was a bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower. A TV hung from the ceiling and at the moment one of the many soap operas played on the screen.

“Do you think that Mr. Reid will be here soon?” Trowa asked Quatre.

“Don’t know. He seems to be quite attentive to Duo – or at least from what I’ve seen.” Quatre tapped his forefinger against his lip. “But there are a lot of contradictions that I don’t understand. For one, why the hell is the man allowing Duo to sleep around in the first place? Shouldn’t he have more control over him? And two, why was Duo in school today with his injuries? Wouldn’t someone who truly cared for him want him to be at home where he’d have time to recuperate?” Quatre gave his crush a sad smile. “I’ve gotten some interesting feelings from Duo in the few times that I’ve met him. There’s a lot of self-loathing and some anger issues that I don’t understand. I guess that we’ll just have to wait to talk to Duo. I’m not sure that I would believe anything that ….” Quatre seized his shirt with both hands and gave a small, keening cry. “Oh god it hurts.”

“Quatre?” Trowa asked, getting out of his seat and coming towards the petite blonde. “What is it?”

“It’s Duo,” the petite blonde gasped, tears flooding down his cheeks. “He’s wishing that he could die and doesn’t care what happens to him.” He threw himself against Trowa’s chest - knowing, at a subconscious level, that there would be comfort and strength in the circle of his arms. “Oh God, Trowa! He’s ready to kill himself. There’s so much pain. Something’s happened. We’re going in to see him and I don’t care if the nurses call security, I’m not leaving him alone when he’s like this.” A small sob escaped Quatre’s throat. He drew himself up, put his emotions under a tight lock and wiped the tears off his face. He gave Trowa a weak smile. “I don’t want him to see my tears. It’s time someone was strong for him.”

Trowa gave the little blonde a smile, took his smaller hand in his and then ushered him out of the room. Hand in hand they entered the foreboding dusk in the ICU. The only sounds reaching their ears came from the various machines used in the unit. The constant hiss and click of the respirators, the deep bong of an alarming heart monitor and the hushed voices of staff, visitors and patients. A ringing phone blared above the other sounds, startling Quatre as they approached the nurse’s desk. 

A woman dressed in street clothes answered the phone and paged for one of the nurses – or so Quatre assumed. She set the phone back on the cradle and turned her attention to the advancing young men.

“Can I help you?” she asked as they came up to the desk.

“Yes, I’m Quatre Winner and this is Trowa Barton,” Quatre said, motioning with his free hand. “We’re here to see Duo Maxwell, if that’s at all possible. We’ve been waiting for his foster father to come up and someone from the emergency department said that they would let Mr. Reid know that we’re here.”

“Yes, he was informed of your presence and said that he would be greatly honored if you would visit Duo. Unfortunately, Mr. Reid was called away on business and he had to leave. If you’d like, Duo is in room seven. Just go around the corner and it’s the last door on the right.”

“Thank you so very much,” Quatre said, giving the woman one of his patented, heart-melting smiles.

“You’re quite welcome,” she said, turning her attention back to her work. 

They quickly rounded the corner and followed the directions to Duo’s room. They could see the braided boy through the large observation window that allowed the nurses to see how each patient was faring without entering the room.

 

Duo lay on his side, cradling his braid like a security blanket. He nervously picked at the rubber band on the end. A thirteen-inch television sat on the end of a crane-like arm; its black screen reflecting everything on the bed. The boy almost swam in the bedclothes, a slight figure in a sea of white linens. And except for his hair and the black circles under his eyes, Duo could have been a corpse. Quatre steeled himself before knocking on the doorframe and walking in.

 

* * * * *

 

Duo closed his eyes, after his father left. He unconsciously picked at the end of his braid, slowly shredding the ends below the ponytail holder. The injury on the football field had left him exhausted and sore and Owen’s visit had taken any desire he might have had to survive and ground it under the man’s unrelenting black loafer. Why couldn’t he ever do anything right? Why did he always seem to do the wrong thing at the wrong time? No wonder Owen hated the sight of him – he was a worthless piece of shit and not important enough to waste your time on.

When door swung in, he opened his eyes and looked at the figures that entered his room. Quatre gave him a nervous smile, his fear of Duo’s reaction written plainly on his honest and friendly face. And Trowa’s look of chagrin startled the braided boy. 

“Hey, guys,” Duo asked, a false brightness coming over his face and voice. “What brings you here?”

“Well,” Quatre answered, “we wanted to make sure that you were all right. And Trowa has something that he’d like to say to you. As soon as he can find the right words, that is. But he’s been hanging around with Heero too much and you’ve seen what has happened to his personality. It went right down the tubes. I just don‘t know what we’re going to do with him. Any suggestions?”

“Well, you could give him away to the gypsies. My mother used to always threaten me with that one. But I told her that they wouldn’t want me…. too wild, y’know?”

“Hmm. Well, that is one possibility. Any other ideas?” 

“Not off the top of my head. I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.” Duo gave him a lop-sided grin.

“Duo,” Trowa said, moving over to the bed. “I’m very sorry about what happened today. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?” He took Duo’s free hand and held it very gently. “There were things going on that made me frustrated and I had no right to take it out on you. I promise from now on to keep my temper under control.”

“Hey, Trow, you don’t need to apologize to me.” 

“Actually, Duo, I do. There was no reason for me to take out my ill temper on you. As Quatre pointed out, I’ve been spending too much time with Heero and his personality has started to rub off.”

“Look, Trow, I forgive ya. But there really isn’t any need to explain to me about what happened. I’m used to getting a little banged up every now and again.” He gave both young men a sad, half grin. “So, what else do you have planned for today? Gonna do anythin’ excitin’?” 

“Not that I know of. Probably just head home and do homework,” Trowa said, sitting in the chair next to the bed. 

“We probably shouldn’t stay too long,” Quatre piped up. “I don’t think that the nurses would want us to tire you out. I promise that we’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll pick up any schoolwork that needs your immediate attention, okay?”

“Thanks, Kitty-cat-cat-Quatre. And thanks for coming to see me,” Duo responded looking up at the petite blonde. “Would you mind terribly if I spoke to Trowa alone for a few minutes?”

“No, I’ll be waiting just outside the doorway for him.” Quatre smiled and slipped out of the room.

Trowa cocked his head to one side and looked at the frail being in the bed. “What’s so important that you have to talk to me alone about it?”

“Do you have any idea how to screw around with another man?” Duo asked, looking down at his long slender fingers.

The rooster-banged boy turned a brilliant shade of crimson. “Ah…no” he finally managed to spit out, after opening and closing his mouth several times. “Why?”

“I can teach you the basics. You’ll have to practice, but with someone that really cares about you and that you care about, it can be something wonderful. Are you willing to listen to me?”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah, it’s the least I can do for what happened between me and Cat. You two deserve to be happy.” Duo moved slightly, trying to get more comfortable and began to careful explain the things that he had learned through trial and error. Trowa reached into one of his jeans’ pockets and withdrew a small notebook and pen. With each revelation he wrote down notes.

 

* * * * * 

 

Quatre stood, watching the two young men through the window in the hallway. Some of the things that Duo was saying had Trowa blushing and stimulated Quatre’s curiosity. He was so intent on the tableau going on in the room that he didn’t notice a strange man coming up behind him until his breath blew against Quatre’s ear.

“Hello, pretty one,” a gravelly voice said. “What are you doing waiting in the hall?” 

The little blonde whirled around and then shrank back from the darkly handsome figure standing there holding a bouquet of balloons. Malevolence rolled off the man in almost overpowering waves and Quatre nearly panicked when he felt the smooth, coolness of the glass against his back.

“Oh dear,” the man said, giving the petite blonde a wicked smile. “Aren’t we a bit jumpy?”

Quatre could feel both Duo’s and Trowa’s eyes watching him through the protective barrier of the glass. He moved toward the dubious safety of the room where his boyfriend and their newest friend were. The feelings coming off the man standing in front of him nearly made the petite blonde gag. Lust, desire, a need to see things suffer and an overwhelming egomania rolled off the man. For a brief second, Quatre could see into the very heart of the beast and what he saw there left him open and exposed to the evil that dwelled in the very core of the stranger. The wicked smile on the man’s face widened to an open leer. The sound of someone scrambling for the door brought a wave of relief to the cornered young man. The feel of Trowa’s arm slipping around his shoulders produced a sigh of relief from the little blonde.

“Oh. I see,” the man said, giving the pair a lustful smile. “An unbroken mare and his virgin stallion. Why don’t you come with me, pretty, and I’ll teach you the way of things. Then you can come back and show your lover what you like and how you like it. Sound like a plan?”

“Leave them the hell alone!” Duo screamed out the door, trying to untangle the tubes tying him to the bed, in order to come to his new friends’ rescue. The man turned his attention from the pair in front of him to the struggling boy in the room.

“He can’t stand the thought of sharing me with anyone else,” the man said, his lips curling into an empty smile. “I’ll be right there, Sweetling. Just get your panties out of a knot.” He inclined his head to the young men standing between him and the room. “If you’ll excuse me, there are a few things that need taking care of.”

“Sure,” Trowa answered. “We were just coming up to see Duo. I guess that the more the merrier, right?” He gave the man a forceful glare. “I don’t think that you want us to have to call for one of the nurses or maybe the police? I mean it’s not like you’ve got anything to hide, right?”

The man gave the rooster-banged boy a nasty glare and then he smiled again. “I didn’t realize that Duo had any friends other than me, of course. I’m so glad that he has finally started to make some friends his own age. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” Quatre said, a smile, cold smile gracing his lips. “I forgot my manners, my name is Quatre Raberba Winner and this is Trowa Barton. We go to school with Duo and came over here to see how he was doing. Who are you and what brings you over to see our friend?”

“You’re Winner’s youngest, huh?” the man asked, his look becoming contemplative. “I’m Roger Muscat. You’re father and I do business together and I know Duo through his foster father.” Quatre didn’t miss the scorn in the man’s voice.

“Really? You and my father have a business relationship? Maybe I need to discuss his choice of associates with him. Unlike some people’s, my father tends to listen to his children’s opinion of those we meet. There’s something very not right with you and I plan have a long talk with him about you.” Quatre drew himself to his full height (which would have worked better if he were a few inches taller).

“Listen, pretty, stay out of things that don’t concern you,” Roger sneered at him. “Those who interfere with my plans tend not to stay in good health for long.” He grabbed Quatre’s chin in a tight grip, causing the petite blonde’s eyes to widen in shock. “Do you understand what I’m saying, pretty?”

“I think you’ve made yourself quite clear,” Quatre shot back, pulling his chin free of the hard grasp and staggering into Trowa as he lost his balance. 

“Yo, Kitty-cat!” Duo’s voice broke through the stalemate in the hallway. “Can you and Trow come in here?”

“Sure, Duo. Just give us a few minutes to get rid of this man.”

“Quatre, just leave him. I’m sure that he’s only here to see me because he knows Mr. Reid,” Duo begged, his voice heavy with fear and pain.

“All right, Duo.” Quatre said, poking his head into the room. “We’ll stay until he leaves.”

“You don’t have to. As a matter of fact, it might be better if you and Trow just left now.” He looked out the window to the hallway, at the man standing there giving him an evil stare. “I’ll be all right. Besides, you need to get home and get your homework done for tomorrow.” Quatre gave the longhaired boy a nervous look. “Don’t worry, he won’t try anything here, ‘kay?”

“Are you sure,” Quatre asked, taking one icy hand in his. 

“Yeah, he’s not going to do anything where there maybe witnesses. So, why don’t you and that handsome hunk that’s attached himself to you head out and do the things that you need to. Unlike me, you have school tomorrow and I don’t think spending the evening here is a good excuse for not getting your stuff done for your classes. Please, don’t give the teachers something more to hate me for.” Duo gave the two boys a weak smile. “If you find the time, maybe you can come back up in a day or two.” The look that he gave Quatre and Trowa was pathetically hopeful. The blonde decided right then to come up and visit this boy, who had turned his world upside-down.

“We’ll bring your homework up and help you to stay up with your classes!” Quatre exclaimed. “I’m sure that we can do it. And that way you don’t have to worry about falling behind.”

“You’d do that?” Duo asked, his violet eyes filling up with tears. 

“We would more that willing to,” Trowa answered. “I think it’s the least I can do for loosing my temper in the first place.” He pulled Quatre closer and took Duo’s other hand. A single, crystalline tear ran down the injured boy’s face. Trowa gave the cool hand a quick squeeze and then released it. “I’ll have to agree with you in one way. It’s time that we headed home. Quatre’s dad tends to worry if he’s too late. We’ll see you right after school tomorrow. Sleep well, Duo. And don’t let that jackass stay too long. Okay?”

“Yeah,” came the faint answer. “See you guys tomorrow.” 

Quatre carefully let go of the hand that he held. He gave Duo a big grin, leaned down and gave the boy in the bed a hug. Duo tried to pull away from the gentle embrace, his eyes growing huge in shock.

“We’ll see you right after school. So be ready for us.” Quatre flashed Duo a cheerful grin. “And if you’re a very good boy for the nurses tonight, I’ll even bring you a treat.”

“I don’t think I have any choice but to be good,” Duo responded. “They’re probably not going to let me go too far with that thing stuck in my side.” He gestured to the rubber tube attached to his left side with what looked like a mountain of tape. 

“Okay. Then you lay here and just think of getting better and we’ll see you in the afternoon.” The two boys separated and walked out of the room. Roger nearly knocked them down entering the room, holding the balloons in front of him. Quatre glared at his back, feeling like they were abandoning the young man to the not so tender mercies of the scoundrel with the gifts. He gave Trowa a weak smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” the banged boy said. “Duo knows enough about this guy and we’re just going to have to trust his judgment.”

“Duo’s terrified of that…. person! I don’t feel right just walking out. I’m pretty sure that guy’s one of the people that he…ah…um…. you know.”

“Yeah, I got that feeling too. But we can’t do anything if he doesn’t want our help. We’ll just have to hope that Duo knows him well enough to be safe.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean that I have to like it!”

“Agreed.” The two young men walked out of the ICU and headed out to the parking lot. Somehow during the journey, Quatre’s hand ended up in Trowa’s bigger one. The electric jolts of flesh on flesh made them both tremble, slightly.

 

@ @ @ @ @ @ 

 

Duo watched Roger like he would watch a rattlesnake. His whole body trembled with fear at the cold, malicious grin the older man gave him. He knew that when he finally got out of the hospital, Roger would make him pay for his act of near defiance.

“We think that we can order around our betters now, do we?” Roger asked his face flushed from the effort of keeping his anger in check while the other boys were there. “Was anyone speaking to you, Bitch? Haven’t you learned to keep your mouth shut in the presence of you betters, you worthless piece of shit?” 

“No, Sir. It didn’t mean to correct you. But it thought that things would work much better for You if You didn’t try to do anything to Mr. Winner’s youngest child; not only his youngest, but also his favorite child, Sir.”

“So, you were looking out for my best interests, hm? I don’t believe it!” He reached out and grabbed the slender shoulders, ignoring Duo’s cry of pain. The heart monitor, set well above the bed, began to alarm as the boy’s heart started racing. The rapid pulse was the only thing that gave his terror away. 

Duo caught a glimpse of hot pink out of the corner of one eye and he turned his head toward the bright color. One of the nurses stood looking into the room and talking on either a walkie-talkie or a cell phone. Over the noise of the apparatus, the boy could hear the operator.

“Attention all personnel … Code Man … ICU … Room 116,” the woman’s voice stated calmly and succinctly. “Attention all personnel … Code Man … ICU … Room 116. Attention all personnel … Code Man … ICU … Room 116.” In less than a minute, the hallway just outside Duo’s room became filled with security officers, male nursing staff and a few police officers (whom Duo found out later were there drinking coffee and eating doughnuts in the Emergency Room).

“Looks like our time will be cut short,” Roger sneered at the slight figure in the bed. “I’ll be back to see you when you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Duo dully said. “I didn’t think I would get off so easily.”

Roger gave him an evil grin and walked to the doorway, holding his hands up to show that he wasn’t carrying any weapons. 

Duo watched the man leave, feeling relieved to have gotten away with out any new bruises or injuries. He drew as deep of a breath as he could and burst into tears. He felt arms go around his shoulders and looked up at the woman who had introduced herself as Margery. She gave him a soft smile and gently held him close.

“That’s it,” she said, “let it all out.”

“Please don’t,” Duo begged around the tears. “I’m not worth your time.”


	6. A Neverending Dream

A NEVERENDING DREAM

 

Duo sat in the back of a stretch limousine, one that Owen would have never ordered. Tonight marked the first time in almost two months that the braided boy had serviced clients and the man that ordered his presence was one he had never seen or heard of before … Treize Khushrenada. It seemed strange that his father had allowed him to see an unknown person without the proper background checks and other safety precautions that he had taken in the past. But then, the old man had been very lax in his treatment of Duo during his recovery.

Duo tugged at the sleeves of the new dove-grey, silk shirt that had arrived with the amethyst-colored, silk velvet suit, trying to hide the bruises that stained his wrists black. Since the accident, Owen had begun to take out his frustrations on his youngest son. The sexual abuse Duo had dealt with from the time of his mother’s death, but the repeated acts of BD/SM that his father forced him into left him feeling wrung out and empty.

The two weeks he spent in the hospital were some of the best he had lived through since before he started taking care of his terminally ill mother. Trowa and Quatre came everyday after school and brought him his homework assignments, picked up the work that he had finished while they were in class and then one or the other of them would order something from a choice of four restaurants that would deliver to the hospital (anything would be better than the food from the vomiteria – ah cafeteria). And even after he got home they showed up to bring him his schoolwork and brighten his day. OJ steered clear of Quatre, especially with the tiny blonde having his uni-banged protector. Now, however, Duo tried to avoid them. He didn’t want to contaminate them with his filthy soul.

It had been fun to watch the two boys making their stumbling way towards being a couple. Duo felt privileged to see their pure love. It left warm, fuzzy feelings in a heart that he thought died and was buried with his mother. But, now that he was back doing the things that Owen required of him, there wouldn’t be time in his life for friendship. Besides, friends were a luxury that whores could do without.

A lump formed between his pecs and tears sprang up from their well at the thought of losing the first people, in a long time, who seemed to care for him. He carefully brushed the crystalline droplets off his cheeks, being cautious not to wipe off any of his fastidiously applied makeup. It wouldn’t do to show up at the restaurant with a mascara-streaked face. He smoothed back his hair, the client asked that his hair be mostly down, so he had pulled the front back into a slender braid that lay against the remainder of his hair. And the rest of it poured loose down across the deep purplish-blue of the jacket. Part of him hated that this person could order him to share his hair with a total stranger, but there wasn’t any use begging Owen for changes.

The long, sleek car pulled up under the canopy of the best restaurant in town. A French chef had opened it right after Duo and his family moved the Winner-supported town. The cuisine was said to be divine and customers waited months to get one of the poorer tables near the kitchen. The braided boy didn’t know what to expect from his appointment.

Duo straightened his cuffs and collar once again and waited for the silent driver to open the door of the car. He slid across the sleek leather seat and stood up. The flowing cut to the suit coat gave the suggestion of tails and the heavyweight fabric hung just right off his shoulders. The shirt under the jacket had enough frills on it to be considered a woman’s, but it fit his slender body to a tee. The only complaint he could make of the garments is that the pants were sufficiently tight enough to split his ass cheeks and the seam rubbed against his hidden pucker, stimulating the nerve-rich flesh. It felt like someone was walking behind him, rubbing a finger over that area and arousing him.

If he says anything corny like is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Duo thought. I’ll strangle him. Going to jail would be better than dealing with some old fart that tells bad jokes and expects me to laugh at them.

He sighed as the doorman opened the door for him. The dark, quiet ambiance helped to calm his overwrought emotions. He wandered up to the maitre d’, trying to delay the inevitable for a few more moments, and gave the stuffy-looking man a sweet, sultry smile.

“May I help you?” the man asked, looking down his rodent-sharp nose at Duo.

“I’m meeting Mr. Khushrenada. Would you please tell him that Duo’s here?”

“Of course. If you will wait over there for a few moments,” the maitre d’ said, pointing to one side of the lobby.

“Yeah. And don’t worry, I won’t run off with the silver.”

The extremely formal man glared at him and stalked away; the way he walked made Duo think about what could be shoved up and how far it had been placed up the man’s ass. He either needed to have something removed or to get laid. Even Owen wasn’t that stuck up. But what did he know? He was just a prostitute or, as one man had called him, a very expensive sperm receptacle.

Duo waited in the shadowy lobby for the uptight man to return and escort him to his date for the evening. High classed, canned music grated on his ears and he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, nervously. New customers made him a little uneasy since his trip to the hospital, he decided. He never knew when Roger would show up or what he would do to him after he got the man thrown out of his hospital room. In all actuality, it wasn’t him that caused the problem, but Quatre. He certainly couldn’t explain to the petite blonde the trouble he had set Duo up for. Or what would happen to him when the sadistic man returned to town.   
The tightly-wound head waiter walked up to him, after looking around the dim lobby. He straightened his glasses and motioned for the braided boy to follow him into the depths of the restaurant. He strode away without making sure that his guest could keep up with him. He led Duo to a long spiral staircase that swept up over the heads of the less fortunate diners. The tasteful scarlet carpet covered the stairs, making them safe. Marble gleamed along the edge of the stairway that wasn’t covered by the inches thick carpeting.

The fragrant smells that greeted Duo’s nose started his stomach rumbling. He had been too nervous to eat anything before coming, besides he planned on getting the best dinner he had ever had from this date. If the old man wanted to molest him, he would have to pay for it by buying the braided boy anything he wanted off the menu. Maybe they could order some champagne and Duo could be pleasantly blitzed when they returned to the apartment that Owen kept for entertaining. Blitzed sounded very nice right about now.

They climbed to the very top of the restaurant where there were private dining rooms. The maitre d’ walked down the hallway with his stiff-legged stride until he reached the proper room. Opening the door, he motioned for the braided boy to enter.

Duo stepped around the man, stopped and patted him on the shoulder. “I think maybe you need to get your wife, boyfriend, girlfriend or the dog to give you a good lay,” he quipped, smiling cockily up as an insulted rage swept over the man’s face. “And if you tell me that you got some last night, then I think you’d better hire a professional, ‘cause your stress relief ain’t workin’.” Duo dodged the door as it slammed shut, nearly catching his hand in it.

“Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” a smooth tenor spoke. Duo jumped against the door and whirled around to face his date for the evening.

“Sorry,” he smiled at the ginger-haired man seated at the table. “I just thought that he might need some advice, seeing as he’s stiff as a board. It’s either that he’s not getting’ any or he’s got a huge dildo shoved someplace that it shouldn’t be during work hours.” He looked the handsome man over. Everything about him screamed “TO THE MANOR” born. His suit jacket lay over one of the spare chairs and the crisply ironed shirt clung to his torso like a second skin. The neatly pressed slacks and highly polished shoes spoke of a valet or butler who helped the man dress.

Duo unconsciously gnawed on one of his thumbnails as he studied the figure sitting in front of him. The man was a lot younger than he thought he would be. And, unlike most of his younger clients, didn’t need any help in the looks department. As a matter of fact, he was drop-dead gorgeous; that, in and of itself, made him more than a little nervous.

“You’re not like my usual dates,” he said, leaning, with a casualness that he didn’t feel, against the door.

“Does that really bother you?”

“Nah, not really. I’m just wondering why someone like you needs to hire a professional.” A horrifying thought crossed his mind. “Oh, FUCK!” he swore under his breath. “You’re a cop. That’s the only reason I can think of for somebody like you needing to hire a whore.” He gave Treize a look of resignation. “If you’re going to arrest me, just do and get it over with.”

Treize rose to his feet, walked over to the drooping boy and lifted his face up. Cherry-colored lips beckoned and the ginger-haired man wasn’t one to miss any chances to get what he wanted. He pulled the fragile form against him and began to plunder the soft, sweet mouth. He drew one of Duo’s legs over his hip and ground their groins together.

“I’m not a police officer,” he said, breaking the kiss. “And as to my reason for hiring you, I saw you and just had to have at least one night with you. You’re such a delightful little piece.” He led the boy over to the table, sat him in one of the chairs and poured him a glass of champagne from the bottle that had been standing open to breathe while he waited for his companion to arrive. “Here, try some of this, it will sooth your nerves. I hope you like the year I’ve chosen.”

Duo pulled his scattered wits together; for some reason this date was different from the others he’d had. “I’ve never tried it before.”

“Oh, a virgin,” the rich tenor dropped into the lower register, causing duck bumps to form on Duo’s arms. “I love initiating youngsters into the adult world.” He leaned over and sucked on the braided boy’s earlobe, swirling his tongue into the delicate shell of his ear.

The younger man shivered in response to the seduction. He sat on his hands to keep from pulling the man down and showing him how much of a child he wasn’t. His body ached in response to everything that was being done to it. “Please,” he whimpered, “stop. If you keep this up, I’m not gonna want to eat. Unless it’s you I’m devouring.”

“I think I’ll stop,” Treize said, pulling away from the boy. “I wouldn’t want the excellent meal I’ve ordered to go to waste. And you’re going to need all the stamina that you’ve got; I intend to leave you totally wrung out and begging for more.” He gave Duo a scorching smile. “I want you to know that you’ve been loved and loved well. So, we’ll settle in and get to know each other better.”

Duo shook his head to clear it. He looked over at the other man and cocked his head. “You do realize that I’m a sure thing, right?” he asked. “I mean the whole seduction thing is nice, but you don’t need to go all out to get what you want. You’ve already paid for my services.”

“Do you mean that no one has ever tried to seduce you?”

“Ah, no. Why should they? I mean, they pay for what they want before I even meet them and most of them don’t want the wife/girlfriend/or whatever to find out that they’re such perverts that they need to screw a fifteen-year-old boy to get off sometimes. Hell, half the guys I sleep with want me to call them ‘Daddy’. Do you know how perverted that is? The other half just want a good, little BD/SM slut, who calls them master and screams at the right time. The majority of the time, I think that they don’t even realize that they’re not doin’ it with a blowup doll.”

“What about the man that injured you a few months ago?” Treize asked, resting his chin in his palm and waiting patiently for a response.

“Let’s not talk about him, ‘kay? He’s bad news and if I say anything about him, he’ll probably appear with the next bout of foul weather.”

“Really? Then why to you go to him?”

“Because I don’t have any choice, ‘kay. I have to do what my pimp tells me or I’ll be as good as dead.” He unconsciously rubbed his bruised and torn wrists trying to relieve the dull ache that sprang up in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Treize said, softly. “I didn’t mean to stir up any bad memories. Why don’t we have some of this excellent wine and forget all about our problems.” He handed Duo the glass he had poured for him, before they got distracted by each other.

Duo took a careful sip of the wine and grimaced at the sour taste. He couldn’t see how anyone would willingly drink the stuff; it tasted similar to the vinegar that OJ made him drink when they were children. Well, maybe not that bad, but close. The alcohol rushed to his brain and the second mouthful tasted better. As a matter of fact, as he got toward the bottom of the glass, be began liking the stuff. The swaying of the room he could do without, though. He giggled and crawled over the table to sit in Treize’s lap.

The look on the ginger-haired man’s face was priceless; his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline and his eyes opened very wide. Duo ground their groins together, relishing the small taste of power he had over the other man. The hardness that formed under his enthusiastic body made him groan with desire. He threaded his fingers into the other man’s copper locks, pulled his head up and began devouring Treize’s lips. His eagerness worked as an encouragement and the older man grabbed his slender hips and held them still as he pushed against Duo’s groin.

A polite knock broke off their make out session. Duo blushed and carefully moved back to his seat. A silent waiter brought the hors d’oeuvres in and arranged them tastefully on the table. He nodded at the two men and left as quietly as he had entered.

Duo looked at the unusual assortment of food. There was some kind of mushrooms with breadcrumbs and something black and what looked like parsley and butter on them. The other tray contained mussels, still in the half shell. Neither of the foods looked all that appetizing.

“Sorry to sound stupid,” Duo said, in a chagrinned voice. “But what the hell is this stuff?”

“If you’ve never had them, Sweetling, how can you sound stupid?” Treize answered. “Why don’t you come over here and I’ll feed you? As to what they are, the first tray is escargot and the other oysters on the half shell. Both are considered a delicacy. And supposedly, the oysters are an aphrodisiac. I wondered if we were going to need them, but I don’t think that will be a problem.” He looked the braided boy up and down. “I intend to teach you about what you’ve been missing. When I’m done with you, you won’t want to go back to your old life.”

“Yeah, right,” Duo scoffed. He turned his attention to the food. His stomach began to growl at the pungent scent. He used the little fork provided on the plate and carefully picked up one of the escargots. He popped it into his mouth and began chewing. The taste of garlic and other herbs exploded over his taste buds. It tasted wonderful, but the texture left something to be desired. “Damn, these things taste good, but it’s like eatin’ an eraser.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard them called that before,” Treize laughed. “Try one of these,” he placed the shell of one oyster against Duo’s lips. “Just don’t chew. Allow the flesh to glide over your tongue and then gently squeeze with your teeth to loosen the juices.”

Duo did as he was told and allowed the slimy, booger-like body slip into his mouth. The strong, slightly fishy taste made him wrinkle his nose in distaste and he grabbed for his glass of Champagne. “I think I like this stuff better than the sea booger you just fed me. That and the escargot will make a perfect meal.”

Treize pulled the braided boy into his lap and started kissing him passionately. The low, greedy moans that escaped from Duo’s mouth encouraged the older man to deepen the kiss and begin to run his hands over the eager young body in his lap. He slipped the velvet jacket off and unbuttoned the silk shirt. He pushed them over smooth, fresh shoulders, stopping when they reached the boy’s elbows effectively trapping his arms to his sides. The ginger-haired man attacked the brown nubs that adorned his victim’s chest, licking, sucking and nipping at the sensitive buds.

Duo writhed in his John’s lap, trying to bring them closer together so that they could consummate the act that they were starting. His cock strained against the soft fabric and throbbed with need. The harder it became the slower Duo’s brain operated. It took him almost a full minute to realize that the door to their dining room had been opened and a very shocked waiter stood holding a tray, looking very uncomfortable. His brown eyes were roaming for a safe place to stare, instead of devouring the tableaux in front of him.

“Take a picture,” Duo said when his brain began functioning again, “it lasts longer.”

“Duo, that wasn’t very polite,” Treize admonished, looking down at his partner.

“Well, it’s the truth. He was starin’ and droolin’ all over our food.” 

“That he is, but we should ignore his total lack of manners,” Treize said, peeling the teenager off his lap. “Please put the food on the table and excuse yourself, that is if you want a gratuity worth mentioning.” He gave the server a glare that promised something worse than a poor tip in the man’s future if he didn’t do his job and make himself scarce in a hurry. The flustered man set the plates down and scurried out the door without a backward glance.

Duo stared at the colorfully arranged foods on the plate. “There’s not a whole hellava lot on this,” he said, wrinkling up his nose. “And what the hell is it?”

“Something very good,” Treize answered, dragging the boy back onto his lap. “Dinner can wait, I intend on devouring you first.” 

Duo sighed and relaxed into the feelings. The room grew hazy and he had a hard time thinking of anything other than the rush of feelings as he was seduced. Things were looking up.


	7. Reality Sucks

REALITY SUCKS

 

Duo hugged the purple key to his chest. Treize had given it to him on their second date and it meant more to him than anything that he’d ever owned. The ginger-haired man said that the shade of blue-violet matched the braided boy’s eyes perfectly and since they were looking for a key, they might as well get that one.

Over the past month the older man had requested Duo’s presence at least three times a week. How he could afford to pay the exorbitant price that Owen charged for one night on a student’s budget, Duo didn’t know. And truthfully, he didn’t care. That the preceding weeks were the happiest, other than the ones while he was laid up, that had graced his life since his mother died. 

Not only was the sex incredible, but Treize actually seemed to love and treasure him. That’s why he decided to take a risk. If his father found out that he skipped out of his last class, he’d end up more shades of black and blue than he cared to think about. Hell, the old fart hadn’t touched him since the first night he spent with his new sugar daddy, so no new bruises painted his skin.

He flagged down a cab and gave the driver Treize’s address. He leaned back into the vinyl seat and ignored the faint scent of cigarettes and vomit. Desire curled in his belly and he shivered in response. When Treize got home he’d find Duo firmly ensconce in his bed wearing nothing but a shit-eating grin. He had just enough money in his pocket to cover the trip to the reporter’s flat; he figured that they’d find a way to get him home before school the next day.

Duo sighed and closed his eyes. Anticipation got him hard and he intended to wear himself out with his new lover.

 

Treize moaned at the sight in front of him. Zechs’ bare back lay beneath him, his tan hands gripping creamy skin and making a nice contrast between the two of them. He shoved his cock deeper into his lover, watching as he tossed his platinum locks when Treize hit his sweet spot. The ginger-haired man knew he couldn’t last much longer and he sped up trying to bring his partner to a fulfilling culmination before his climax swept over him.

Zechs groaned loudly as he shot his load onto the bed and then cried out as the man behind him hit that hidden spot one last time before collapsing on the bed next to him. Neither of them had the energy to move for the moment and they just lay there basking in the afterglow.

After a few silent minutes Treize spoke, “It’s so nice not to have to worry about whether or not I’m going to hurt you. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through the last few weeks. That boy is so needy; I’m beginning to feel smothered.”

“Well, it’s your own fault, Treize,” Zechs responded, turning to look his lover in the eye. “You’re the one who chose to chase after an abused child with no thought to what it would mean to you.” He rolled over Treize’s body, so one thigh rested between his and he could easily rest his chin on the redhead’s chest. “Quatre told me that he thinks Duo is being abused and you’re not helping matters by leading him on. The poor little thing is one step from suicide and you are treating him like a little prince, only to get information from him.” Zechs made a sour face.

“Well, I was hoping that he’d lead me to his pimp, but he’s rather hesitant to give me the information that I need. As soon as I get that, I’m gone and he can fend for himself, once again.”

“Asshole,” Zechs murmured, biting down hard on the bared chest beneath him.

“That hurt!” Treize responded, flipping his lover onto his back and forcing himself between the blonde’s legs.

A soft click from the living room echoed through the bedroom, followed by the sound of the front door slamming shut.

“Shit!” Treize spat, flinging himself out of bed and grabbing for the robe that hung on the bottom bedpost. “I hope that wasn’t who I think it was.”

“I’m sure it was Duo. You’d better go after him and see if you can act like a decent human being for once.”

 

Duo had arrived at Treize’s apartment and let himself into the flat. Instead of the silence he had thought to find, he heard very familiar noises, including the very intimate groan that Treize used when they were making love. He crept over to the bedroom door and stood there, in the shadows, watching the two men together. The way they acted after the deed was done, told him a lot about their relationship. And then he heard what his so-called lover really thought of him and he couldn’t take it anymore. He gently set the key down and raced out of the residence, slamming the door behind him.

 

* * * * * * 

Heero marched up the stairs. Every Wednesday his parents insisted that he take piano lesson. Why he had no idea. While he was proficient enough, his performances always lacked something and he knew it. His parents might hope that he would become the world’s first pianist/computer hacker, but he knew that they were wasting their money and his time. And to top things off, the only time that he could take his lessons is during his study period. Granted it was his last class of the day, but he usually used the time to finish what homework he had so that he could use his time at home more efficiently.

He trudged up the stairs to his teacher’s apartment. The elderly lady lived on the sixth floor and Heero never used the elevator. At least by using the stairs he could get some exercise and not waste an entire afternoon.

A door slammed above him and the sound of someone running down the stairs was the only warning that he had before a lithe form slammed into him. His legs were buffeted by a knee-length braid of chestnut hair and the tattered, rusty black clothing looked vaguely familiar. The slight figure that crashed into him clung there, slim shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Heero recognized the boy in his arms. Duo Maxwell, if he wasn’t mistaken. He could finally place the hair and clothes. 

Softer footsteps followed the boy. When he heard them coming, Duo pulled free of Heero’s grasp and fled down the rest of the stairs. The Japanese boy moved to block the way of whoever was chasing after Duo.

Treize flew down the staircase, trying to catch up to his Pulitzer Prize in the making. Granted the kid was a pain in the ass, but he was also the only way that the ginger-haired man could think of to make a name for himself. No longer would he be under the pall of Daniel Khushrenada’s reputation. But only if he could get closer to the young man who had just run out of his life. He careened over the cement steps and nearly plowed into a dark-haired young man he had never seen before.

“Excuse me,” he gasped, trying to move around the figure blocking his way. The boy moved back into his path. No matter which direction Treize tried, the stranger impeded his route. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Heero answered back.

“Then move!”

“No. I don’t think that young man wants anything to do with you. So, why don’t you leave and go put some clothes on. Your tallywacker is hanging out.” 

The distant sound of the outside door slamming shut, sounded like a death knell to the redhead. He glared at the boy guarding the stairwell and stormed back up to his flat.

Heero allowed a slight smile to cross his features before continuing his journey upward. He could still feel the heat where Duo’s body had rested against his. Tomorrow he intended to find out all he could about the braided boy. And he knew the perfect place to start...Quatre Raberba Winner.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Duo wandered through the city, heading back to his family’s home. He was going to be very late, but didn’t feel like moving any faster. Owen would probably beat the crap out of him, and right now he really didn’t give a damn. Treize’s words ran in a continuous loop in his head, each repetition dug deeper into his soul. He had known that things were too good to be real and that his lover was hiding something. Well, today he found out what that nasty surprise was. The ginger-haired man hadn’t really cared for him, only used him for the information Duo could give him in order to write his article.

A car horn broke through his misery and he looked up to see who was trying to get his attention. A pale blue limousine pulled up beside him and the back window powered down.

“Hey Duo!” Quatre said, sticking his head out of the open window. “What are you doing on this side of town?”

He flashed the little blonde a weak smile. “Nothin’. Just visitin’ a friend, but he’s not home today.”

“He’s not one of your special friends, is he?”

“Yeah, we had a date today, but he stood me up. And since he’s not home, I’m SOL.” A single snowflake drifted down and landed in his chestnut hair. “Ah, hell! Can this day get any worse?”

“Hop in; we’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks, Kitty-cat,” Duo said, opening the door and slipping onto the soft, leather seat. He drew his tattered coat closer to his body and stared out the window, discouraging conversation.

Quatre sighed and gripped Trowa’s hand a little tighter. Every since leaving the hospital the braided boy had pulled away from the two who had befriended him. And he was coming to school with fewer and fewer bruises. The blonde knew that his friend wasn’t seeing clients like he had been, or at least according to Mr. Reid. 

The whole situation raised alarms in Quatre’s mind. There were things that were hidden and he, Quatre Raberba Winner, intended to find them out. Trowa nudged him and brought his attention back to the limo.

“What do you want to do tonight?” the banged boy asked.

“Well, we’ve got a test in history that needs to be studied for and Zechs is going to be home, at least for a short time. He’ll probably return to student housing later tonight.” Duo’s sniff of disbelief drew the interest of the other two in the vehicle. “Duo, do you know my brother?”

“Never met him,” Duo said, not turning his focus from the window. “I hear he’s just great though.”

“Yes, he’s the best. He and his friend Treize are in some of the same classes,” Quatre burbled. “I hear that you’ve met Treize.” 

“You could say that.” The coldness in Duo’s voice caused the blonde to shiver. “Look, this is my street; you can just let me off here.” He reached for the door handle before the car came to a complete stop. “Hey, Trow, can I ask you something? Alone I mean.”

“Sure Duo, whatever you need.” He leaned over and gently kissed Quatre on the cheek.

The two boys exited the car and stepped a short distance away. Quatre could see their mouths moving, but they were too far away for him to hear what was being said. The feelings he had gotten off of Duo weren’t good. Something had happened and the braided boy was suicidal. And that something had to do with Treize Khushrenada. When he got his hands on the jackass, Treize would pay for upset the fragile boy. 

Duo and Trowa shook hands and walked away from each other; the chestnut-haired boy towards his home and Trowa back toward the car. He had a very disturbed expression on his face as he settled back into the warmth and comfort of the vehicle.

“What..?”

“I can’t tell you,” Trowa said, looking very disturbed. “I made a promise to Duo and I’m not gonna break it.”

“Okay, I won’t ask about it. But when you can tell me, please do so.”

“I will, promise.”

 

* * * * * * 

 

Duo walked into the house, totally oblivious to what was going on around him. Owen’s hard hand grabbed a hold of his arm. The boy hissed in pain and he looked up at his father. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Owen growled. “I got a very disturbing call from your school today.”

“So?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Duo pulled away from the older man and rushed into the kitchen. He grabbed the biggest, sharpest knife out of the butcher’s block that sat on the counter top.

“Back off or I’ll turn you into a eunuch!” he yelled, brandishing the blade.

Owen stepped back at the vehemence of his son’s tone; that and the eight-inch cook’s blade cause him to pause.

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally AU, so please be patient.
> 
> Don't own, so don't sue! I have nothing worth taking and my video equiptment is waaaaaaaaaay outdated!


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